moonlight and vodka
by crazybookgirl101
Summary: One fading star. One boozelit failure...No common ground, well, almost none. They have a mission, protect and serve the Mockinjay and her consorts by day, and make the cameras believe. But when the cameras are off, and the night falls, Can they find any other common ground?


Disclaimer. Not mine. None of this is mine.

She was lying in a foetal position on the floor when he found her, her mascara was in dark streaks down her face and stood in stark contrast to the paleness of her skin, there was no powder, it had been cleaned away by the salt water as she cried. Her once lurid purple lipstick had faded to the palest lilac. And instead of open of her elaborate costumes she wore nothing but a simple black short nightdress that made her pale skin even lighter. It was none of those moonlit miserable aspects that made him sigh and go towards her, it was the almost empty bottle of clear liquid that his long acquired nose recognised as vodka. And she was sound asleep.

Moving forwards he started muttering, half sentences of antagonising worry that he would never allow her to hear when awake. She weighed almost nothing as he lifted her, and he made a note to start monitoring how much she was eating. She seemed so out of place like this- blacked out drunk in a dark corner, rather than the overly dressed mistress of propriety who lounged with immaculate grace and comfort in over embellished rooms fit for kings. The house that had been provided for her was as furnished as either his or Katniss when she had arrived, and despite their expectations hadn't bothered to make it up. She used the main downstairs room as a design studio for her and Cinna, the kitchen as a strategy planning headquarters. And the study she had been given, contained just the mandatory computer screen and desk. It was the blandest darkest room, devoid of almost all light except one small slit of a window and let in a deathly cold. It was also the most private, and he remembered his own days of descending into inebriation, anywhere dark and private where he could hide was a blessing…He had briefly smelt the sting of alcohol on her that morning, and had come with the notion of catching and shaming her into stopping.

He was careful not to wake her up as he lifted her. If there was one thing Effie Trinket was, it was proud. And knowing that he had seen her in such a vulnerable position would mortify her. Not so much in the morning when her head has stopped pounding, and she had accepted the simple act of kindness, but he knew if she woke up now she would be humiliated…And he would probably leave with a visible wound. Yes, for all her naivety of the arena, Effie Trinket knew how to fight. And she certainly wasn't afraid to.

It was only a short walk from the study to her room, and despite his knowing she would yell if he ever dared come in without permission under normal circumstances, it was a simple matter that he had to…And it made him almost nervous about entering. The door was open and he carefully manoeuvred her through the door as he carried her bridal style. The covers were in disarray and he smiled as he thought through all of Effie's complaints of not having house staff in the district. He placed her down gently, not wanting her to wake up. Before pulling the covers over her and watching her roll over and curl into a ball. A sleepy contented smile on her face as she slumbered on this light had big bay windows that let light flood in, drenching her face with a silvery glow. Despite their frequent bickering and wildly different worlds, she was sweet looking, he mused. She was sweet looking with the hair and makeup as well…And yet again for the thousandth time since meeting her, he wondered why on earth she thought she needed the ridiculous get up? As he turned to go he couldn't help being curious about the bareness of the room itself, there was the standard double bed, a chest of drawers, and a closet…Very district 12, but not very Effie. She had a few busts with heads and jewellery on, and he assumed the rest of her outfits were in the wardrobe or scattered about in the living room. In the dark he appraised the voluminous wigs with distain, amusedly noting he much preferred her natural colour. He also made a note to never ever tell her.

And then, but only after carefully finding and disposing of the stores of alcohol she had, he left.


End file.
